by Jane Peart
I’ve never been this cold in my life, Niki thought, shuddering, her teeth chattering. I wish I were anywhere else but here. Why did I think I wanted this?
The other four were just as miserable, but Max managed a joke. He told them this reminded him of the time he’d gone to Wimbledon to see the tennis matches. He’d dressed to the nines, in white flannels, new shoes, and a new straw hat, when he’d been caught between the courts in a downpour. It wasn’t that funny, but they needed some comic relief, and they all laughed heartily.
Niki was never sure how, but the team did manage to straggle back to the building twenty minutes before the deadline. Bedraggled, soaked, bone weary, and bleary-eyed with lack of sleep, she barely remembered staggering upstairs, into a hot bath, then to sleep.
The next morning they came down to a breakfast the likes of which they had not seen here before. Platters of sausage, eggs, cinnamon rolls, fried apples, were set out for them. Best of all, Captain Mullen congratulated them on their accomplishment.
That afternoon a rumor circulated regarding the arrival of some top brass. This meant the team would have to appear for an oral interview, which would result in an evaluation that would be the final hurdle, determine if they would make the cut.
Jennifer and Niki waited their turn, talking in whispers in the lounge while the three men were being interviewed. Adding up all the various elements in their training, they were convinced that passing this last test would mean being secreted into occupied France to carry out a mission.
In her mind Niki went over her chances. She knew she had passed the physical tests successfully, had done fairly well on some of the others parts of the training, such as map reading and airplane recognition, but had been weak on the mechanical stuff. Her one sure advantage was her fluency in French, however.
“Gilbreaux.” The sound of her name snapped her to attention. She stood up, straightened her uniform jacket, and walked into the interview room.
Niki tried to stay calm, give clear, concise answers to the questions they asked. One of the officers launched into a rapid flow of French. Niki made a quick switch from English and was able to understand and reply to all that he said. He gave a brief nod, and the other officers exchanged looks that she interpreted as approving.
When it was over, she was told she had a three-day leave during which she could make her final decision as to whether she wanted to be included in the mission her team would be assigned.
“But I can answer that right now. Yes, of course.”
Jennifer was waiting for her and they hugged each other, relieved that they had both made the cut. Since Niki had discovered that Jennifer had no immediate family and her boyfriend was in North Africa, and because Niki decided it would be too difficult to go to Birchfields and keep the secret of her new assignment, they decided to spend their leave together at a nice Scottish inn they’d heard about.
Niki felt sad not to see Garnet and Bryanne, but she thought the dear old lady would have a fit if she knew what she was about to do. She didn’t dare tell Luc either. He still had his image of her as irresponsible, flighty, self-centered. She must prove herself a grown-up, capable person, someone he could be proud of. She thought of calling Fraser but decided against that too. It would just complicate things between them. When Iget back, I’ll confide in him, Niki promised herself. She didn’t listen to a small voice inside that suggested she should change that when to an if.
One question she had been asked during the final interview bothered her now a great deal. It had been put to her by Colonel Thornton: “You will be issued a suicide pill before embarking to France. Do you have any religious scruples about taking it in the event you are captured?”
She had been so anxious to make the grade, to be considered the right stuff for this dangerous work, that she had answered without hesitation. “No sir.”
But that night she lay sleepless, knowing that it wasn’t true. She hated the thought of being tortured, but ending her own life? It would never come to that, she tried to reassure herself. Still, that haunting thought hovered when she woke up the next morning. It was too late to recant. She was in this for the long haul. The small band of interrogating officers had left, and all the others were embarking on their short final leave. She would just have to rely on her new faith, her trust in God to keep her safe, bring her through whatever happened.
chapter
20
WHEN NIKI AND JENNIFER returned from their three-day leave, they were told to report to the airfield the next morning. The team was being flown to Gibraltar. There one of the leaders of the French underground would arrive to take charge of their crossing into occupied France.
In Gibraltar they were housed in a large seaside villa for two days.
During the afternoon of the second day Niki and Jennifer were sunbathing. Hot and thirsty, Niki offered to go inside and bring them back something cool to drink. On her way into the house, she happened to glance back at the terraced garden that led down to the beach. She halted, stood absolutely still as she watched a man climbing up the rocky steps. Behind him on the crescent of sand a boat had been beached. As she watched him come, a ripple of shock went through her. The shape of the head, the set of the shoulders, were familiar. She stiffened. She was sure. It was Paul Duval.
He was wearing a beret and a rough workman’s smock of blue cotton. He continued up the rock steps bordered with flame red geraniums. Although he was not aware of her, she could see his face. It was tense. His mouth was a thin line, a cigarette dangling from one end. His eyes were squinted against the glare of the sun, so he didn’t see her. Niki felt a rush of blood tingling through her body. She felt hot, then cold, in spite of the sun’s warmth on her bare back and arms. Paul, here. There could be no other reason than that he was the Resistance leader who would take their team into France.
As she stood there, half hidden from sight by one of the marble pillars of the terrace, Niki saw Captain Mullen, their training officer, hurry down the steps to greet Paul. The two men stood talking for a few minutes. Then they both walked rapidly into the house, unaware they had been observed.
Niki, shaken by what she had seen, went back to where Jennifer was still drowsing in the sun. She confided eagerly what she had seen and what it likely meant. “Then we’ll probably be going in the morning,” Jennifer said excitedly.
Just then Max came to tell them that they were to report to the drawing room of the mansion for a briefing at four o’clock. Eagerly he and Jennifer discussed the reason for the meeting. Niki was strangely silent. She had an uneasy feeling. She both looked forward to and dreaded seeing Paul.
Why, she wasn’t quite sure. Paul, of all people, would understand her motivation to do something to help her native country. But somehow as it approached four o’clock, Niki felt very apprehensive.
Her premonition proved right. Paul visibly paled, looked shocked, when he saw her among the group gathered for the briefing. He gave no indication that he knew her but, after being introduced to the team by Captain Mullen, proceeded to tell them about the operation. They would go by boat, the one he himself had brought to the island and left waiting on the beach below. They would be met on the other side by a group of fishermen, who were loyal Resistance members. From there they would get further orders where to go, what to do.
There was a short period for questions, but there were only a few. Captain Mullen closed the meeting by saying that clothing, supplies, would be delivered to each person’s room later. They were to be dressed as peasants so they would not stand out in any way in the small village where they would land.
By ten o’clock that night no one had come to Niki’s door with the issue of clothes and supplies. The inner dread slowly became a reality. For some reason she had been scratched from the team.
By whom and why, she was to learn.
Finally there came a knock at her door. She had been sitting on the edge of her bed in a tense waiting position for hours. Now she ran to open it and found Pau
l standing there.
“May I come in?”
“Of course.”
Neither said any of the things that friends meeting after a long time would be expected to say.
Niki was stiff with apprehension, Paul obviously agitated. He took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, shook one out, looked at her, raised his eyebrow and asked, “Mind?”
She shook her head. He was nervous, she could tell. She almost knew what he was going to say and also that he hated saying it. She felt sorry for him. But she wasn’t going to help him. He had to tell her himself.
“You’ve been removed from the mission tomorrow.”
“I can’t be,” she said numbly, even though she had expected it.
“Sorry. It’s been decided.”
“Who decided? Captain Mullen? You?”
Paul dragged on his cigarette. “It doesn’t matter. It was decided.” He paused. “But if you insist on knowing, yes, it’s my job to select the right people, weed out the unfit, the ones who could sabotage the operation, because any weak link endangers the entire chain. That’s my responsibility.”
“It’s not fair.” She hated that her voice sounded girlish, whining. Quickly she gathered her composure. Acting childish wouldn’t help her cause. “Do I get an explanation?”
“No, you just follow orders,” he replied shortly. “You’re to return to England. You’ll get a new assignment there.”
Niki’s disappointment, chagrin, was hard to control. Her hands clenched at her sides. Should she plead, argue, beg? Would it do any good? Paul looked around for an ashtray, found none, and Niki automatically pushed the saucer of an empty teacup she’d left on the dresser toward him. He crushed out his half-smoked cigarette, then turned to her, saying, “Any questions?”
“I’ve been trained to not ask questions, just obey orders.” Her tone was bitter. “But yes, of course I have questions. Can we speak one to one, friend to friend?”
“Go ahead.”
“What is the real reason I’m being removed? I passed all the tests, qualified. Besides, I speak fluent French. No one else on the team speaks it as well. Can you afford to keep me from going?”
Paul started pacing, hands clasped behind his back, his face like granite. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point? I don’t understand.”
Paul halted, stood at the window, his back toward her.
“Why me, why now? It’s personal, isn’t it? Paul, answer me.”
He whirled around, facing her. “Yes! If anything happened to you, how could I face Luc? Or your parents?” His eyes narrowed. “Do you know what could happen to you if you were captured? What do you think the cyanide pills they issue you are for? Men stronger than you have cracked under Nazi torture. What makes you think you wouldn’t?” Paul’s eyes blazed. “Could you do it, Niki, if it came to that? Take your own life?”
His question hung between them as he continued to con-front her with an unflinching stare.
For a minute Niki was silent. She had answered the question in the interview, but Paul’s eyes seemed to probe her inmost soul. Could she? Her life was only half lived. There were so many things she wanted to do, to accomplish. In her mind’s eye were images of the people she loved and might never see again—Tante, Uncle Kip, Luc. Never to see Montclair again. And Fraser. All the possibilities of loving him floated before her. Never to deeply love or marry, have children. To die not knowing any of these things. Would she have the courage? To end her life, God’s gift to her? But on the other hand, could she trust herself not to break?
“Niki?” Paul’s voice broke into her troubling thoughts.
He was waiting for some kind of response. Was he really giving her a choice, or was his word final? She thought of that day in Saint Paul’s when she had stood in front of the painting The Light of the World and resolved to open the door of her heart, to surrender her life to God. Was Paul’s decision God’s way of showing her what she was supposed to do? A good soldier followed orders.
She looked at Paul and saw beyond the hardened commander, the man who had seen terrible things, to the dashing young man with a mischievous smile, dark, dancing eyes, light-hearted humor. It made her heart wrench to see only a shadow of the Paul she had known. He was changed, as she was changed. The war had changed everyone.
Paul must have read her thoughts, for his expression softened slightly.
“You’ve proved enough, Niki. Be proud of what you’ve done. There are other ways you can serve. Your ability as a translator would be invaluable. I’ll recommend you. As for now, your orders are to return to England. You’ll get a new assignment there.” Paul hesitated a little longer. “So, Niki, can we part still friends?”
She didn’t answer but turned away, unable to hold back the tears she did not want him to see. What if he was right? Maybe she wasn’t strong enough. Had all this difficult training been wasted?
“Au revoir,” Paul said gently.
She did not know he was gone, until she heard the firm click of the door closing.
Disheartened, depressed, Niki returned to WRENS headquarters, to her old job. Two weeks passed. The promised new assignment never materialized. She had no way of checking to find out why. Had the team completed the operation safely? Had anything happened to them? What about Paul? Had he forgotten? Or was he unable to fulfill his promise?
Then Fraser called to tell her that he had a weekend pass. The following day, as they sat in the small cafe where they’d gone after the cinema, Niki told him as much as she felt she could without bridging security.
“I wanted it so badly. I worked so hard. And then at the last minute—” She shook her head, all the old disappointment coming to the surface.
“I take it that it was a risky venture, something dangerous?”
“You might say that. But I was prepared,” she protested. “And after all, it was for the war effort, for France, my country.”
Fraser reached over, took her hand, and said gently, “Maybe it wasn’t in God’s plan for your life, Niki. Have you considered that?”
She looked at him, wide-eyed. They had never spoken of spiritual things. Now as she looked at him, his candid eyes full of caring and concern, she felt a strong bonding. Here was a man she could trust, a man she could love.
“Yes,” she replied slowly. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I believe that nothing in life happens by chance, Niki,” he said.
Sunday evening, before he left to go back to his base, he said, “Listen, Niki, I’m about due for a week’s leave. I want to take you to Kingaren. I want my mum to meet you, and you to meet her and my younger sister Fiona. They’ll tell you all sorts of wild tales about me, and mum will want to show you my baby pictures. You’ll suffer, I promise you, but on the other hand,” he added, grinning, “you’d have to find all this out sooner or later if—”
“If what?” Niki teased.
“You’re foolish enough to marry me.”
“You haven’t asked me to.”
“What would you say if I did?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to hear all those wild tales and see those baby pictures, I guess.”
Fraser laughed. “You’re on. Start working on getting at least four days off. Trade with someone or take extra duty. I’ve already alerted mum, and she’ll be writing you a formal invitation. That’s to comply with all that protocol your proper Southern upbringing expects.”
Fraser was always gently ribbing her about being a Virginian and growing up on a plantation.
“It’s your family’s plantation, not mine!” she would declare, feigning indignation.
“It’s your brother Luc who will inherit Montclair, be master there. I’ve always known that. Besides, after the war I’ll go happily back to Scotland, find a crofter’s cottage I can restore, put in plumbing and all that modern stuff for my American bride, then spend my days fishing.”
“You’re taking a lot for granted, aren’t you, you arrogant
Scot?”
“Well, what else can I do? What can any of us do but dream of the future?” His face was suddenly sober. “The present’s too ugly.” That was a rare break for Fraser. They hardly ever talked about the war, discussed its progress, confessed their anxieties. Time together was too precious.
chapter
21
Birchfields
EVERYONE SEEMED SURPRISED when Alair and Luc announced they wanted to be married, although Garnet had a secret smile, as though she had been the only one in on the secret. Hadn’t she seen it from the first, their immediate attraction to each other that day Luc arrived at Birchfields? It was so obvious; how could no one else have noticed? Garnet offered Birchfields for the reception. It was closer to the village church where the wedding was going to be than Blanding Court was, and therefore much more convenient in these times when transportation was so difficult. She did not mention the fact that for her, traveling to Blanding Court to attend would involve a great deal of trouble. Lalage agreed and gratefully accepted, since Neil was in London, deeply involved in his work at the War Office, and Blanding Court was crowded with all its evacuees. Alair and Luc wanted a small country wedding, just family and a few friends. While Lady Blanding and her sister Lenora Ridge way busied themselves with preparations, Luc started the process of getting leave for a honeymoon, which turned out to be only four days. Pilots of Luc’s experience and skill were too valuable to be off duty for long.
Only Niki seemed left out of the planning. She was amazed and chagrined at her own reaction to the romance. She had not been at Birchfields the week Luc and Alair had met, so the whirlwind romance had caught her completely by surprise. The fact that Luc—her darling, special Luc—was head over heels in love with Alair Blanding had come as a shock. Why it should have, she knew, was outrageous on her part. Alair was beautiful, gentle, refined, and Luc, a romantic, would have of course fallen for her ethereal looks, her soft voice and gentle manner. Aunt Garnet reported to Niki that she had never seen two people more in love.